Freljordian Diplomacy
by The Seventh Writer
Summary: Tensions in the Freljord continue rising in the aftermath of the Rakelstake Conference, as loyalties throughout the three tribes shift. In the frozen wastelands of the north, a Troll King rallies his kin to war as foreign powers intervene for their own agenda, while the Winter's Claw continue to be increasingly aggressive. In the face of such perils, will Freljord ever know peace?


Quinn lay half-buried in the snow, a shiver running down her spine. Prince Jarvan was right, she thought. No matter how uncivilised and barbaric the Freljordians were, living in such conditions required remarkable strength.

Adjusting herself once more, Quinn repositioned herself in a better position, ensuring that her location would not be disclosed by it. For hours she had laid here in wait, all thanks to the information she had accumulated over her arctic operation.

For weeks, the Wings of Demacia had been actively tracking information from the Freljordians, each dispersed in separate corners of the frozen wasteland. It had all began after she was reassigned to the Freljord, part of Jarvan's effort to better diplomatic relations with Ashe, the leader of the Avarosa and Demacia's supported leader of the Freljord. The Avarosan leader had then dispatched her on a mission to investigate the brewing threats in the Freljord, in order to prepare for the inevitable clash between the tribes.

Quinn was skeptical at first, but her initial efforts and the information she had recovered had proven her wrong and soon, Quinn found herself in nothing short of a quest. She had doggedly pursued leads that led nowhere, meeting informants in remote villages all over the Freljord, calling in favors, and, when necessary, making threats and bribes. All of the information she had so painstakingly collected had finally led to this: a conference between the two most prominent figures of the Winter's Claw: the Tribe's leader Sejuani, and her most powerful ally, the Ursine Chief Volibear.

And here they were, seated at a conference table carved from what seemed to be the rare Freljordian pine. It seemed almost ridiculous, that excellent craftsmanship like this could possibly be associated with the stinging gales of winds and the merciless, unrelenting cold.

Already, the two figures were already seated, alongside a few other prominent members of the Winter's Claw. Most notably was Olaf the Berserker and Udyr the Animal Spirit, who had, along with Sejuani and Volibear, been champions she had fought alongside and against in the Fields of Justice.

Cursing the flurry of snowflakes that obscured her view, Quinn squinted. This event was one of utmost importance, one that she could not miss a single detail. Already the conference atmosphere was tense, with Sejuani sullenly sitting at the head of the table while Volibear, seated at the opposite end, argued passionately for a course of action of which Sejuani definitely was not supportive of. Even with the blizzard in the background, Quinn could still make out the words "war" and "invasion" in the Ursine's speech.

After Volibear's speech, Sejuani once more asserted control of the conference, waving her flail in the air for additional effect as she gesticulated wildly, turning to her Ursine occasionally and pointing to them in accusation. This display of aggression seemed to displease Volibear, who stirred uncomfortably in his chair.

It was beyond doubt, of course, that they were talking about the Avarosan. Just as her informants had told her, this conference was meant to facilitate the invasion of Freljord's most prosperous tribe. For many years, this had been the warmongering tribe's ultimate goal. However, there seemed to be an issue: the leaders of the Winter's Claw seemed to have disagreed on the tribe's course of action.

After Sejuani's outburst, the tension in the meeting seemed to have cleared. Volibear mumbled something to himself, inaudible in the snowstorm, as Olaf and Udyr each contemplated about the meeting's conclusion. The agenda of the meeting, although achieved, was from desirable. Hopefully, this could set back the Winter's Claw long enough from launching their offensive. Long enough for the Avarosans to prepare.

The Wing of Demacia looked up at the blurry sky, a continuous stream of hail and snow descending from above, the blizzard growing by the second. Quinn sighed, wondering if it was to be an omen, a premonition of times to come. Feeling the fierce wind lash across her face, Quinn absentmindedly brushed away the stray snowflakes in her hair as she noticed the chief of the Winter's Claw climb aboard her fearsome ride before disappearing into the horizon, a band of men in tow.

A storm was brewing.

Quinn could only hope to prevent it in time.

* * *

At the other side of the world, within the crumbling ruins of Urtistan, a lone bladesman rested, his features obscured by the hood he wore. Even so, there were no qualities about the rest of him that suggested at even the slightest hint of humanity. From his dark crimson skin to the visible veins pulsing beneath it, the..creature was far from human.

As the sallow faced sun continued its descent, the lone figure stood up, feeling a familiar darkness envelop the former spots of light. He could sense the light struggling, feel it trying to resist the darkness from taking over, but it was clear that it was the darkness that prevailed, establishing dominance by the second. As the final strands of light slowly began to vanish from view, the entire sky almost completely void of any ray of light, the figure smiled, feeling a familiar sensation within him, a sensation that he hadn't felt since the last few years. Looking upward at the dark sky, he smiled, the unnatural movement tugging at his lips.

Today, he thought to himself, he would allow this rare privilege of a smile. For soon, he mused. Soon. The war would begin.


End file.
